A Welcome, the Crossword, and Brief Thoughts on Why We Write

Plus, “Visiting and Revisiting.”

Firstly, I would love to welcome readers to what I hope I can maintain as a frequent journal and “essay board.” This is something I had envisioned for this website from the start, but for a multitude of reasons, it took me about six months to set aside time to write at all.

I am Daniel Basilio-Fernández. While many know me solely from my music background—after all, I am writing this article on a website advertising myself as a musician—what many do not know, however, is that I love to write. I attended a school that taught classical education in Texas from 6th grade to 12th grade, which instilled a love for the great books of the Western and Near-Eastern worlds. Through our survey of these important works, I developed this devotion to honing my skills as a writer, rhetorician, and an aspiring, thoughtful, and contributing citizen of the world.

These experiences undergird my desire to write—a desire I will endeavor to explore briefly in this entry and maybe more profoundly in a future post. I invite readers like you to similarly share your thoughts on what I write and how I write. I will admit that I feel myself shaking off layers of rust that accumulated from years of not challenging myself as a writer. I am sitting alongside all that built-up corrosion, and therein lies vulnerability. So, I hope you can see some of these entries through, and I thank you for being among the attending.

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The first time I did a New York Times (NYT) Crossword was in my junior year of college. I had a subscription to The Athletic, and when they fell into the orbit of NYT, I somehow got access to Games and completed a grid. I would do them once every week with my coworker at my school’s library on the 3–6p shift on Saturdays. While we did attempt Saturday puzzles, we found that earlier days in the week fared better for us. At some point, she stopped working that shift—or maybe it was me. At any rate, I stopped doing grids until my senior year—my last semester.

I cannot recall what drew me back to the Crossword in that last semester, but I can remember in those first two weeks of returning to it that I felt distinctly “called” upon. The puzzles drew upon knowledge that I had left behind, and I felt somewhat frustrated and as though I had betrayed my liberal arts rearing. Granted, my blind spots (to this day) are with actors/movies and sometimes idioms, I still found myself not getting “things I should have gotten”. What exactly are these things? And why should I have gotten them? In answering these questions, I was being called upon to encounter new ideas, recall my own knowledge and experiences, and thus reinitiate myself into the world in earnest. As the editor of the New York Times Crossword, Will Shortz, says, “Good crosswords connect to everything in life”.

Thus, the journal.

Right before graduation, I booked a musical by Gloria and Emily Estefan called “Basura” which had its world premiere in Atlanta, GA. During that time, I found myself asking the music director and other smatterings of people for little tips and nudges on the crossword when we were not playing the show. (I absolutely disagree with looking up answers!) At a point, however, I felt like these nudges were not serving my reinitiation into the entire world. I also felt I needed something more definitive for tracking the knowledge I am retaining from these grids, especially so I can do these grids on my own. I also cannot help but be deeply inspired by people who had knowledge I did not have at my ready. (Cynthia, if you are reading this: you are the biggest inspiration!!) I then recalled what my 6th grade teacher made us do for English class—keep a commonplace.

This journal is a commonplace of the world. Whether I got the gold star or not, I would write down (1) what I did not get; (2) what I got from crosses but did not know on its own; and (3) knowledge I did know but not from the vantage point of the clue (for example, a random piece of trivia on a well-known figure who wrote a bestselling novel).

In this commonplace, in the space between the lines, I also considered new ideas as to why it is important that we write. Sitting down with a pen, journal, and a crossword puzzle slows me down and organizes my usually breakneck brain. I find a need for routine and discipline in having to physically realize words and ideas onto paper. This is a love that I feel whether I am journaling, writing an essay, or making myself a storyteller. This love for the space in between the lines reflects a deeply human need to be understood. While I want readers to love what I write, I find myself needing to be understood.

And I must share that one of the things that motivated this article is that today, 31 July 2026, I finished my first Friday NYT Crossword with no clues or autocheck. Hooray! While a small feat, I have found myself understanding more about the world in my commonplace and being understood through the liturgy of journaling and writing at large. Maintaining this journal has been a deeply moving endeavor that reminds me of the value of committing our hands to writing what matters to us. For me, what matters to me is surveying myself and the world through the “good crossword” and committing myself to the lifelong pursuit of learning and being the most thoughtful citizen of the world we can be.

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Visiting and Revisiting #01

In the flux of my life, I find myself in one of two states: visiting and revisiting. For me, these states do not necessarily emerge from physically being in a place familiar or not. Rather, to visit is when the totality of my life circumstances brings me to something in an instant or longer, with the air of adventure in encountering an unknown or otherwise recalling past circumstances with those familiar accompanying emotions.

I want to begin this tradition of sharing the proverbial—and sometimes maybe literal—places I have been a visitor and re-visitor with every article and essay I share.

Visiting: The Plays of Oscar Wilde. I am ashamed to admit that, even after attending a classical liberal arts high school (!) that staged The Importance of Being Earnest in my sophomore year, I have never read or seen any of his plays. I have begun with Lady Windemere’s Fan and will work through the collection in this anthology, which closes with Earnest.

Revisiting: Steve Reich’s “Electric Counterpoint” (1987) featuring famed American guitarist Pat Metheny. Most are surprised to hear that I first became a fan of Steve Reich—and a wider swath of minimalist and contemporary American classical music—at age 13. A middle schooler, indeed. 

This morning, I felt compelled to put it on while I finished the aforementioned Friday NYT Crossword, taking me back to Friday nights in my room playing Minecraft with the overdubbed guitars coming through the iPad speakers.

Being 13 was a watershed year in my life, nay the defining watershed moment of my life. 2016–17 was a year of immense growth and revelation; I feel the circumstance and consequence of this time resoundingly to this day. I am sure I will recount this time in future entries, but in the meantime, I am sure you could imagine how recalling this personal revolution through the Steve Reich piece was apt in crossing the “Friday barrier”, with the crossword serving as a budding revolution of its own.

If you have made it this far, I would love it if you shared where you have been visiting and re-visiting. Please feel free to reach me at my contact box! Until then, cheers.

This article was edited on 01 August 2026 for clarity and formatting.